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by anonymously-famous1
Summary: She was dead, and the fault was his. A stand alone, or can be read with my other fic, Recruitment as a prologue. Thank you for reading!


**A/N: So! I really love Joker, and I really wanted to try to write something in his voice. Try being the key word here. I don't know if I did the guy justice. Granted, you can't really be anybody's "voice" in third-person, but...**

**Anywhore. Though some situations and lots of the dialogue are from my own head, this story was also made by watching clips of Joker in ME2 as well as using the Mass Effect Wiki (to determine some finer points, like his age) so if anything is weird, or doesn't sound right, let me know, and I can try to source my information. **

**A lot of this is a hypothetical "maybe this happened (?)" ****story. Nobody really ever delves into it, so I thought I would give it a go. Some of the things may sound or make it seem like Joker and Shepard have a thing for each other, but I promise you, that's not it at all! They love each other, yeah, but in a purely platonic way.**

**All characters, most of the dialogue, and everything else, go to EA and BioWare. Go ahead and read or ****review. Thanks for reading! (*edit* This story has been edited so that in the future Wrex will still exist. This will help with the author's sanity. Thank you.)**

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><p>Systems Alliance Space Vehicle Normandy Stealth Reconnaissance-1. Or, as it was call by those who knew her, the SSV Normandy, SR-1. A beautiful prototype deep-scout frigate. Developed by the Alliance and the Turian Hierarchy. She was built with state-of-the-art stealth technology and a beautiful drive core. The ship was originally commissioned for solo missions in deep-space. And it was also originally captained by David Anderson, a wonderful man to know until politics royally screwed him over.<p>

The ship had a history. It had once held the late Spectre Nihlus Kryik, a turian who, at times, was a bit prickly. Well, mostly was just a huge, hard-to-impress asshole. Not to say he deserved what Saren, another turian and rouge Specter, had done. But still, that guy was an ass.

The ship currently held a new captain and the first human Spectre, Commander Renita Shepard, who was sorta rough around the edges, but loved a good laugh, a nice drink, decent conversation, and shooting moving targets with her sniper.

The Normandy was not without her battle scars both outside and in. The outside bore scars from the rough getaway of a few space pirates, a scratched paint job from the time when Shepard had ordered her pilot to steal the Normandy; they'd been grounded, thanks to the damned council, but Shepard was having none of that. The inside was there the magic happened. The dent in the wall by the entrance to the cockpit from when Shepard had been a little too pissed. In the mess hall, there was a burnt section of the ceiling due to a tiff between the crew's biotic members Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko and Doctor Liara T'soni. The playing cards that had been melted "accidentally" to the elevator wall because former C-Sec Officer Garrus Vakarian "really screwed up the omni tool, I swear on the Spirits." The three bullet holes in the wall by the kitchen where Tali'Zorah vas Rayya had forgotten to put her gun in back into safety. And let's not forget the dent in the side of the MAKO, not from Shepard's horrendous driving but from Wrex's tripping over his feet and banging his head, something the crew had never let him live down. There was also the work bench in the corner of the lowest level that had Gunnery Chief Ashely Williams's helmet - her family had told them to keep it, and prayed that she watch over the ship.

All of this and more made the ship perfect. And who better to pilot a perfect ship but her perfect match? Jeff Moreau, or Joker as everyone knew him, in all his twenty eight years of living had never been so attached to a ship.

The Normandy had become a home to Joker, and though no one spoke it out loud, the thought was mutual.

In more recent months, the Normandy had become empty. After the battle at the Citadel, Tali had returned to her fleet to finish her Pilgrimage, expressing her excitement as much as her sadness. Her absence was felt, and Shepard had asked her to become a permanent crew member and maybe consider leaving the Flotilla and fight alongside her. Even old Pressly, Officer Charles Pressly who resented the aliens from the beginning, had hugged her goodbye and wished her safety and luck. Garrus had left to enlist in training to become a Spectre, no doubt inspired by the commander herself. Liara had left a week after Garrus to do more research on the Protheans. Wrex had been gone before all the rest, returning to Tuchanka in some mission to "reunite the clans."

Renita and Kaidan had stayed, of course, and were no doubt canoodling in a dark corner of the ship. Of all the people to stay...

There was also doctor Chakwas, the ships medic, and Pressly of course.

Space was...well, like every other day, beautiful, endless, and quite quiet. They'd been, for the passed few weeks, quelling any geth resistance in the galaxy. A tough job with information based on hear-say from the alliance and pings the scanners picked up, but the commander had always managed to come back having found the fight they were looking for. And they were close to finishing that fight, Joker could feel it. They were nearing the next area where it was rumored there was a large geth base set up - three human ships had gone dark in this sector as well, only further confirming suspicion - and the ship had just slowed from the Mass Relay jump.

"Disengaging FTL drives. Missile signals active. Board is green...we are running silent."

"We're waisting our time," Pressly complained, looking over a data pad. "Four days searching up and down this sector and we haven't found any sign of geth activity."

Joker rolled his eyes at the officer and stared back at the ships controls. "Three ships went missing here in the last month. Something happened to them."

Pressly waved his comment away. "Bah, my money is on slavers. The Terminus System is crawling with them!"

True. But ships went missing, not just the crews. Destroyed? Stolen? It was an odd case, to say the least, and Shepard had felt a little uneasy at the news.

"_Take us in there quietly, Joker. If ships went missing I intend the Normandy and her crew stay hidden and safe from whatever took them. I don't like this; it makes my hair stand on end..._" Those where the Commander's final words before she left, only visiting the cockpit to bring coffee from below deck so Joker could keep flying, and Pressy wouldn't be wound so tight.

"Picking up something on the long range scanner," Ensign, a female co-pilot, mid-twenties, reported. "Unidentified vessel...hnn...looks like a cruiser."

_That _sounded ominous. Unidentified or identified, a cruiser was basically harmless. They Normandy wasn't the only ship out in the TS, so it was only logical to run into another one. Of course, Joker couldn't exactly honk the horn and give the guy a wave. A few controls flashed in the corner of Joker's eyes and he quickly scanned the reports. Okay, so maybe it was a little freaky. "It's not matching any known signatures."

"Cruiser is changing course." A loud warning buzzer sounded from the controls of the female. "Now on intercept trajectory." She sounded shocked, but not scared. Joker of course was perfectly _fine. _No reason to worry about an anonymous cruiser who changed the damn course to hit the ship. Was it geth? They did have that weird hive mind thing so if one had figured out a weird algorithm to make their ship appear invisible, he was sure there were ways around that. Or maybe it was pirates. Shepard hadn't gotten to crack any organic skulls in weeks, and he'd love to see that normal excitement she had back in her eyes.

"It can't be!" Pressly snapped. "The stealth systems are engaged."

Joker froze. Oh shit, this was _new_. Not them, not the geth. Something new and definitely out for blood. Shit.

"There is no way a geth ship could -"

"It's not the geth," Joker said, his fingers already flying and doing their job. "Brace for evasive maneuvers!"

Shit, shit, shit, shit! What was this thing? The heat signature reading didn't catch any missiles, but only one faint line of...of _something _and that hit the ship with a hard and unforgiving groan of metal.

Sparks flew. A fire, an explosion, to his right. Pressly fell to the ground, unmoving, no breathing. Joker felt sick.

"Pressly!" the younger woman called. She was about to scream something but the ship shook again as Joker tried desperately to keep the Normandy out of the way, and her head cracked sickeningly against the controls and then once more against the floor. Joker was alone, behind him, the crew was frantically trying to quell fires and get others to safety.

Oh God, what the hell was this thing? It had shot out something in the Normandy - the thrusters, the drive core, something - but with the adrenaline and the flash of controls, the need to set the ship right, the panic, and anything else he could think of, he couldn't recall what had happened. He donned and air mask, a translucent thing that he's kept with him in case of emergencies like if the hull was ever shot out right behind him.

Which, in this situation, was very likely. A few had already flashed across his screen, which he swiped out of his way. "Multiple hull breaches!" he shouted over the panic to the others who had stayed. "Weapons off line! Somebody get that fire out!" Another blast rocked the ship and Joker felt a sharp pain in his leg that had brought small tears of pain to his eyes.

Damned Vrolik Syndrome! His leg had been jarred and he hit it the wrong way against the chair. What normally would have given a guy a bruise shattered his tibula, and if it weren't for how quickly his mind was working, he'd have been in a lot more agony.

_Please, no, _he begged to any force that could hear him. _Please no, no, not this ship, not this crew please. Oh, shit, please. _

"Mayday, mayday, _mayday!" _Joker called over the Alliance radio. "This is SSV Normady! We are suffering damage from an unknown enemy!"

_Please._

* * *

><p>Hours? Minutes? Who knew? The hull command deck was gone, the crew had left in the evacuation shuttles, but the ship could be saved. It had to be saved. He was confident he could do it he just needed time, he needed to think.<p>

"Come on baby, hold together. Hold together," he plead softly.

A hand on his shoulder. An honest, urgent voice. "Come on, Joker, we have to get out of here!"

She should have been gone by now. "No, I won't abandon the Normandy! I can still save her!" Oh God he sounded crazy, he knew he did but he couldn't bring himself to move. If he moved this became more real than he'd want to admit. If he couldn't save her, he'd go down with her.

"The Normandy is _dead, _Jeff!" Shepard snapped. "Just like us if we don't get the _hell _out of here!"

"No, please, Ren, please we just have to..." but the enemy ship's weapons had come back online. Oh dear God help them all, it wasn't over. "Oh no.."

"What? What's the matter?"

"She'd coming back for another attack!" As he'd said it, the energy beam had sliced right through the ship, and Shepard's eyes widened behind the her mask.

She seized Joker's arm and another wave of pain took him over as she hauled it over her shoulder. He cried out. "Watch the arm and leg, Shepard!"

"Jeff, I swear to God you can yell at me when we get out of this mess but right now I need to think." And think she did. She'd managed to half carry, half drag Joker to the nearest escape pod, and helped him get inside.

And then that when it had officially gone to hell.

Because the latest blast had caused any gravitational field that was left to disappear. Renita drifted father away and clung desperately to a still-standing wall. She jammed her hand against the button, trying to close the shutters of the escape pod

"Commander!" Joker called. Oh please, please no, the Commander, the captain of the Normandy, his friend. She had to make it. And then the force of gravity had sucked her father away so violently she only had a grip with two fingers. "SHEPARD!" She'd lost her grip. She spun, slowly, at the mercy of zero-grvity. Oh no, no, no...

The blast from the remaining area of the ship came at the same time the pod shut the doors and Joker could only watch as the force of it knocked her into a wall and away from safety, drifting into the void. The Normandy was in pieces. Shepard was dying.

Joker screamed a string of words and profanities he'd soon forget. He would block it out, later. He would forget how he'd tried to unlock the door, pled with God and any other mighty forces to save her. That he'd broken his hand pounding on the door, trying to reach his friend. He would forget the unimaginable pain that he felt that had nothing to do with his broken bones and everything to do with seeing Commander Renita Shepard die saving his life.

He should have left. He should have gotten into the pods with the others. Why did he have to be stubborn, who the hell was he to think he could stop a freak incident like this and fix the Normandy?

Oh God. Shepard was dead. She was dead, and the fault was his.

He'd forget everything, the shouting, the praying, the tears, but he wouldn't forget that.

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><p><em>"So they tell me you've got some kind of <em>_disease."_

_Joker nearly broke his neck as he turned to stare at the source of the voice. She was tall, with dark skin and black hair pulled into a strict ponytail. Every part of her radiated confidence and ruthlessness. Her eyes were a thoughtful blue. She looked as pretty as she looked deadly, and by her question and tone, Joker was willing to bet she was some bitchy new crew member._

_"What, afraid you'll catch the cripple's cold?" Joker mocked with a sneer. The woman smirked._

_"No, Mister Moreau, I'm asking because I'd like to get to know you. I know officer Pressly, and captain Anderson and I have been close for many years. He told me you have something called Vrolik Syndrome, and I'd like to know what that means." She gave him a shrug. "Unless that's some weird was of saying you're just a douche with a dumb hat."_

_"It's not dumb!" Joker retorted. "And it's brittle bone syndrome. Not contagious, lady, not dangerous to anyone but myself."_

_A look of concern washed across her face. "And you're okay to fly this ship?"_

_Joker gave her an annoyed glare. "You don't fly a ship with your _legs _lady. Even if you did, I'm not some sob story you can interview about his "tragic tale" so just get lost. I don't need your shit, and I really don't need any form of pity. Listen. I am the best damn helmsman the Alliance has and you _want_ me as your pilot," __he ranted. "Is that enough information for you, Miss.__...what was your name again?"_

_The woman smiled despite his hostility. "Commander Renita Shepard."_

_That cooled him down immediately._

_Oh. Oh shit. The woman from Akuze. She'd had a reputation, and a dark one at that. "Oh, uh," Joker stuttered, his face crimson. Shit, how the hell had he not known what she looked like? Had he known she'd come up to the bridge, he'd have prepared! Didn't they brief people on this shit? Oh, fuck maybe that was what Anderson had been talking about earlier. Of all the times to zone out; he was royally fucked if she -_

_"Don't look so shell-shocked, pilot. I'm not going to summon any thresher maws to come eat you, too. Despite the vids, I like to think I'm pretty level headed. I'm just asking you a question." Did she just _joke _about the death of her team on Akuze? That was...refreshing. It wasn't everyday you met a soldier with a dark sense of humor that matched his own. _

_Joker managed a __laugh. "Uh, yeah. Sorry, Comander. I didn't even know you were _the _Commander. You...er, wouldn't mind forgetting the part where I called you 'lady' in the most disrespectful tone I could manage or that I told you to get lost, would you?"_

_She rested an arm on the man's chair. "Did you do that? I don't recall."_

_Joker gave her a half humored and half relieved smile. "So, you came up here to know about Vrolik Symdrome?"_

_She nodded. "I did. If you have time, that is."_

_He did._

* * *

><p>The news hadn't went public yet. Only those who had survived the attack knew. Which was good, because the less people who knew, the less he had to talk about it. The less he had to hear. The less he had to remember.<p>

He had ordered lunch on the Presidium, but it sat untouched in his lap as he over looked the part of the Citadel that was still being fixed. How long had it been since he had eaten? Drank? He wasn't sure, but doctor Chakwas would know. She'd been coming to check up on him every few days. Something about internal damage, and that he might need to see somebody. Right, because he needed more pity right now; the eye's of every passerby were filled with enough of it as they started at the wheelchair he was forced into for the next few months. A broken fibula and tibia, sprained elbow, broken hand, and from the rough ride in the pod, a shattered knee on the opposite leg. Now let's add a history of mental health and he was really riding the pity train.

"Joker?" the district drone of a turian came from a few feet behind him.

At the other end of the area, Garrus Vakarian was clad in the standard C-Sec armor, holding a data pad, and looking more than a little surprised.

_Shit. _It was all Joker could think. Not that he didn't like the turian, he did. But the reality was, he wasn't looking forward to seeing anybody right now, much less forcing conversation while he was supposed to be dealing with "shore leave" - which was what the Alliance was calling it, but they'd pretty much grounded him. They'd lost their frigate, their investment, and they didn't exactly blame the ship that took it out. As far as the Council was concerned, it was a mistake, and Joker could have flown the Normandy out of trouble. So "shore leave" was, as far as he was concerned, as good as being told he'd never be able to fly again. Thanks, deep-space.

_Don't look at him, _he thought, turning it his wheel chair to see Garrus in full, making his way toward the human. _Okay, alright, fine, just don't speak with him. Don't even wave. _Garrus was closer to him now. Joker gave him a wave and a half smile he wasn't feeling. _Fucking shit. Okay, fine. Whatever. Fine. _

"Spirits, it is you," and for a moment the cliché greeting was enough to make Joker want to hit the turian in the mandibles. Considering his right elbow would have protested the action, he settled for an annoyed scowl.

"Vakarian. I thought you were off training to be a Spectre?"

"I am," Garrus said. "Unfortunately, there is a lot of legal stuff through C-Sec if you have an employment history with them. Training is on the other side of the Citadel." He gave Joker an embarrassed...was that a smile? When the mandibles did that...flare thing they - whatever. A smile. An embarrassed one. Good.

"What are you doing here? I thought the reconnaissance mission would have lasted longer than a month." Garrus asked, interrupting Joker's train of thought.

"It was cancelled," Joker mumbled, returning to his sullen mood. "We couldn't get it done."

Garrus pulled over a chair. "You can't be serious. Shepard couldn't take down the geth?"

Joker shrugged. "More a long the lines of..." he trailed off. The term "technical difficulties" would make the situation sound lighter than it was, and despite his normal sarcastic standpoint, humor was lost on the situation.

Garrus changed the subject. "Well, where you are, Shepard and Alenko aren't too far behind. How have they been?"

_Dead and __mourning_, Joker thought bitterly. Kaidan's face when Joker had shown up without Shepard haunted him still. Grief, sorrow, pain, hatred, worry, fear, bitterness, and then finally the accepting numbness he himself had learned to settle on, crossed his face. But his eyes had settled on Joker and despite the calm demeanor he could read the unspoken words. _How could you? You let her die, didn't you? _

Even now, he could feel the blame Kaidan had unknowingly set upon his shoulders, and he couldn't help but agree. "Kaidan is...he's not doing so hot these days."

"And Shepard?"

Joker froze. He opened his mouth to speak, thought better of it, and settle back into his chair. "She's not...Ren didn't...Garrus hasn't anyone briefed you on what happened?"

The turian reared back as the sullen tone, and Joker saw his eyes squint in confusion. "What happened?"

Joker sighed. If they hadn't told him, it was still very private. He wasn't about to relive the thing by telling Garrus about it. He may not be a drell, but the memories still hurt, still came to him full-force. Her shocked and scared eyes behind her mask. Two fingers desperately holding onto the frame of the dying frigate. But then again, he'd want to know. And it would be better if it came from him than one of those C-Sec bastards or the vids later on. He'd try to switch topics first. "How's Specter training going?"

Garrus scowled. "Don't change the subject. What happened to the Normandy, Joker?"

The pilot licked his lips and took a deep breath. "Some ship came out of nowhere. Shot the Normandy to hell and back."

If turian's could pale - and maybe they could, Joker hadn't been too sure - that's what Garrus's face had just done. He stared at Joker with the expression of a kicked puppy. The Normandy had been a home, more than a ship to the crew, and Garrus was no exception when it came to that feeling.

Joker continued. "It didn't match any signatures. Pressly died, a few others. Mostly, everyone got out in time, left in the escape pods. I...stayed where I was. Some crazy-ass delusion that I could still save what was left of her. God, I don't know what I could have done when I think about it. Some stupid shit, I guess. Then Ren...the Commander demanded I leave. I fought her on it, wasted time until the ship charged again and was ready to hit the Normady with its...God I can't even tell with it was now. A light-beam-laser-shit-wrecking beam. She got me into the nearest pod and...I...I couldn't grab her in time and pull her back." he paused and took a deep breath. "I couldn't grab her, I couldn't leave the pod, my leg.." he looked down at it now and not for the first time cursed his disease. "The shot had taken out all gravity fields, Garrus, and she floated too far out for me to grab her. She lost her grip...banged her head."

Joker cleared his throat. Now came the hard part. The part he wished he hadn't seen. "The pod shot out and I was panicking, right? The Commander was hurt, the ship is toast, we have no idea if the Alliance _heard _our distress call let alone if they were coming to retrieve us. I thought maybe Shepard could hold on out there, maybe we'd all make it. But...her helmet...broke, it was leaking oxygen. I watched her suffocate in zero-gravity.

She's dead. Shepard kicked the bucket. She's not on permanent shore leave, she's not with Kaidan, she'd dead on some planet because she came to...help me." The last words where hard to say and they tasted like acid.

For awhile, neither of them spoke. The death of the commander had hit everyone hard, and he imagined that it would hit harder for the ones who weren't there. It was like being overseas when you had a child on the way. Something you couldn't help, but would eat away at your mind, nag you until you could do something about it. See it in the vids, hear about it through rumors, or hear about it from another crew member. Either way, you couldn't help but think about what you _would have _done. That you should have been there. That you would have done things differently.

_That I should have listened and left the ship. _

When Garrus did speak, his voice was quiet and filled with an accepting, somber tone he'd never heard from the turian. "When are they planning on releasing the information?"

Joker sighed. "Beats me. A few more weeks probably. They'd have told you sooner, I'm sure."

"Vakarian!" someone called. A turian, much older by the looks of him, and higher in status with face paint drastically contrasted on his fringe and around his eyes. "The executor wants to speak with you. It's...urgent."

Joker chuckled without humor. "Speak of the devil and the devil shall appear." He gave Garrus a parting nod. "At least it won't be as much of a shock to you now."

Garrus's eyes looked hollow. Joker knew the feeling. "Thanks, Joker. I...I guess I'll see you around the Citadel?"

"Maybe. I don't know how much longer I can take it here. Too much politics, too many stairs," he gestured to the wheelchair. "As soon as I'm out of this thing, I'm out of here."

"You won't try to fly again?"

"I'd love that," Joker said, tone mocking, "but, as usual, the Council chose to ignore the reports, and have decided I needed shore leave, and when the council tells you that - "

" - You probably aren't ever going to set foot on another Alliance ship again. Damn," Garrus cursed.

"That, or get a _really _shitty reassignment."

Vakarian shrugged and started to get up. "At least you'd be flying in that scenario."

Joker rolled his eyes. "The Normandy was a beautiful ship. Nothing else flew like her, and nothing ever will again. It's like driving a sports car, and then switching to a 'family friendly vehicle.'" The turian looked confused, and Joker heaved a heavy sigh. "Anyway, you better go see executor Palaround, or whatever his name is. No doubt he can give you the calm version of the story." If he was still the turian executor. So many people died in the attack on the Citadel, it was hard to keep track. "Good luck with the Spectre crap."

Garrus nodded, looked away from him, murmured something unintelligible, and left for his destination. Joker was alone once again.

Reassignment or permanent grounding? He would die if he wasn't allowed to fly, but he wasn't too keen on the other option.

_Beggars can't be choosers, _Joker thought with a sigh.

* * *

><p><em>"Your got a minute?"<em>

_Joker turned a bit to see the Commander holding two steaming mugs in her hands. Her eyes were rimmed with dark circles, and her shoulders were tensed. She was out of her armor now, only sporting a light jacket, pants, and a tee-shirt. Her hair was sticking out every-which-way. She looked like hell._

_"Yeah, I've got a few." He accepted the drink he was offered, and took a grateful sip. A little known fact about Renita was her love for hot toddies. Lemon juice, sugar, honey, warm water, a quarter teaspoon of tea, and whiskey. She rarely drank it, only needing it in times of great stress or grieving, the latter of which she was experiencing. They had just left Virmire. "What are you doing up?"_

_"Couldn't sleep. Needed to talk."_

_Joker gave her a teasing smile. "Kaidan isn't awake?"_

_Shepard shook her head. "Nah. He had a migraine and a nosebleed. I'm lucky the L2 damage wasn't worse than that."_

_"What about Garrus?"_

_"Dead on his feet and repairing the MAKO. Mumbled something about keeping busy. I...I can't be down there too long anymore, anyway. Too much shit to think about, and that isn't the place to do it."_

_"Alright then," he said, clapping his hands together. "My turn to play therapist. How are you feeling?" Joker asked, not putting much feeling into the words. He felt shitty enough seeing the ground team come back with one less. Shepard had lost them both on her watch. _

_She took a long sip of her drink, and then sighed. "Joker...I mean, you know about Akuze, you know what I've seen, the lives I had to sacrifice, the lives I've taken, you get it, right?"_

_"Sure I do."_

_"So you understand that it never get's __easier, right?" Her demure was not natural. Her eyes were sad. "I thought...I thought I could get to them both in time. When we split up I thought we could...I thought I'd be coming back with both of them. We...we argued, she then told me to go get Kaidan. She knew she was going to die, we both did. She...she knew, Jeff, knew she was going to die. And I couldn't help her. I couldn't get to her."_

_"Well, yeah. Of course you couldn't."_

_Shepard eyes turned sharp. "Excuse me?"_

_Joker set the drink aside and held his hands up. "I just mean you're right. She made her choice. She told you she was fine, and you had to make a fast decision. You said you couldn't help her and you were right. You can't be in two places at once, right? Or, maybe you can, but that would just be weird."_

_"Jeff, that's not what I meant. We should have gone back for her. Done something. I could have sent Garrus to get her - "_

_"And probably lost him in the process. And, no offense, Renita, but if we're gonna kick Reaper ass, we need as many people we can get. No need to use the whole crew as cannon fodder when you make a mistake."_

_Shepard stared at the drink in her hands for a while. "I shouldn't have had her separate from us," she murmured. Then snorted. "If Ash were here right now, she'd tell me to shove the sorry attitude, or something that was borderline insubordination."_

_"Yeah. Probably something like 'get your head out of your ass, Skipper, and do what you have to do,'" he joked in a terrible impression of Ashely's voice._

_She sighed. "This whole situation - the geth, the Reapers, Saren - it's a mess, huh?"_

_Joker nodded. "And don't forget dealing with the Council's bullshit." He stared back at the controls to the Normandy. "But you can handle it. I've seen you deal with worse things before."_

_"Like my pilot?" Shepard replied, __tongue-in-cheek._

_Joker laughed. "Your bravest and most useless endeavor yet. Border line stupidity."_

_She shook her head, fighting a bitter smile. "This is a terrible time to mourn your crew members. I hate to put that kind of shit off, but I guess it's going to have to wait."_

_Joker shrugged. "Hey, man, I'd hate it too. Good thing I'm not you, huh?" He wiggled his eyebrows at her and she cracked a more grateful smile._

_"Don't be cute, asshole." She got up and turned to leave the cockpit. "Thanks for the talk. Make sure to get some rest. God knows we all need it."_

_"Aye aye, ma'am!" Joker answered with a mocking salute. Shepard couldn't help it; she laughed._

* * *

><p>The bridge was dark, and Joker's eyes where heavy and burning. He didn't sleep much these days for his reassignment ship had been maintained at odd hours, and assignments completed in the same manor. He wasn't used to the impulsiveness. Even though it had been some time since he'd been reassigned.<p>

The whole Normandy crew had. Chakwas, Adams, everyone who had survived was in a new ship. It didn't feel right. It felt like a job most days, and the captain was a complete jerk. Didn't know his ass from his elbow type, in Joker's opinion. Not that Joker hated him. More of a quiet dislike that grew whenever the guy bumbled his way next to the pilot's chair. He probably should have gotten used to it.

It had been half a year or so since he'd been reassigned. He was still bitter about it. The Council and the Alliance both had dragged their asses about the whole endeavor. He was pretty sure he'd never fly again, and at one point had spent a week at or near a bar. He didn't drink or anything - Vrolik Syndrome and drunken wheelchair-rolling was probably more trouble that he was looking to find. But the thought of the mind-numbing elixir was enough for him. If he really needed it, he'd just go in, get hammered, and see if the his favorite ex C-Sec was up to rolling him out of whatever club he had rolled into.

He never did.

The Council had eventually decided that, yes, he would fly again, but it was a "trial period" and that he was "on a sort of probation." Probation. Because this shit was his fault. It was a load of crap wrapped in bullshit and sprinkled with offended disbelief, but he somehow managed to be grateful for it.

These days he thought about the Normandy more and more. Animosity aside, the captain of this frigate was nice, as far as nice guys go. He was by no stretch of the imagination a spring chicken, but the old-timer was alright. That was the problem. He was _too _ alright, which was something Joker never thought anyone could accomplish.

Nothing ever _happened_. Sure, Joker wasn't always one for jumping aboard the suicide train whenever Shepard needed her ass yanked out of hot water, but at least he'd been able to _do_ something! Fly in and preform a daring pick up on a planet covered with sulfuric acid and lava, drop off a bomb in the middle of a war zone, he'd even settle for having to escape from that ship-from-hell a year ago. There were no geth ships or fighting to save the Citadel. There was no nose-diving and shooting a crippling blast into the belly of a reaper. He didn't have to drop anybody into a narrow space against impossible odds. Hell, he hadn't been able to properly give his shirty, sarcastic quips about a mission in so long, he thought he'd all but forgotten how to make a joke.

So when the email came in for him earlier that day, he had been a little shocked. At first he figured it was the Anderson; the guy liked to shoot him one every now and then, just too keep contact. Yet this sender's name was encrypted data, and the message had no title.

Joker was by no means a tech expert, but he'd tried tapping the side of the data pad on the corner of the chair a few times, and tapping the screen in a few short spurts of quadruple clicking. That normally never worked, and was by no means about to do so now.

The message was simple, and very short.

_Cerberus could use a good pilot, Mister Moreau. _

Cerberus, the bastards, where a crazy bunch of human-centric sadists. Cerberus had experimented on and killed Admiral Kahoku after he'd researched the deaths of his team. As if that weren't enough, Shepard had told him in a flurry of curses and rage that they had experimented on her team on Akuze, on those who had survived. "_I thought they were dead! Dead! Damn them, damn Cerberus, damn it all. Human-centric my ass. The sick things they're hell-bent on discovering..._" and then Shepard had cut off her rant mid sentence to shudder. Thresher Maw venom, Thorian tests, even rachni experiments - however likely that sounded. Yeah, these guys were very bad news.

They were also very effectively destroyed, from what Shepard and Admiral Hackett were able to dig up.

Without a second thought, he deleted the message. Spam, probably. That's what it was.

Joker heaved a sigh and rubbed the dark circles that rested below his eyes. He'd been sitting on the ship for the last few hours, though they were docked at the Citadel.

Joker hadn't set foot since they'd let him fly again. There really wasn't a need to, since there was nothing else there for him. The only person he'd ever go to see would be Garrus, but the bastard had disappeared three months after Shepard's death.

Which was awesome, in the most bitter, sarcastic, pessimistic sense of the word. There was nothing to do. No reason to leave the Alliance when they let him fly, no reason to leave the ship when there was nothing for him on the other side of the door, and no reason to fly when there was nothing going on. He hadn't signed on to fly for the Alliance for the _violence, _but once you've been in a few high-risk situations, reconnaissance missions didn't cut it.

There were many moments like these, nowadays. He'd sit in the bridge, think, possibly drink a cold one. Contemplate leaving the Alliance and their bullshit. Think better of it.

If she wasn't dead - if he hadn't inadvertently killed her - Shepard would have his ass right about now.

"_If you're so adamant about change in your life, do something. Sulking about it never did a damn thing._"

This was true. He'd wanted something - energy, adventure, _something _- back in his life. Flying was everything to him. Without a ship flying by his capable hand, he was a crippled kid from the Arcturus Station. He could make ships do things their engineer didn't know they could do. Impossible, dangerous, amazing, and sometimes risky things. If he left the Alliance, what then?

"_Jeff, people don't get anywhere expecting life to hand them some shitty get-outta-jail-free card while they sit on your ass. You earned the right to fly the Normandy. You earned everything you did to land where you are. You want __something? You have to earn it. You want out? Well, these assholes aren't going to fire the best pilot in the Alliance fleet, are they?"_

Yeah, Ren would have his ass for this mopping shit. He starred at the data pad for a few more moments.

"_If you're not going to do it, stop wasting time._"

Joker rolled his eyes. Shepard didn't mourn when she had a job to do. She didn't spend her days regretting every bullet, every sacrifice.

Slowly, Joker began to work his fingers over the key pad. Typing a resignation letter was hard work, and he wanted to make sure the implied "fuck you" to the Alliance was crystal clear.

* * *

><p>Dark Star Lounge was well lit in a blue hued light. There was a large bar settled in the middle, a dance floor in the back, tables and people scattered around. It wasn't Purgatory, but it didn't have to be for this particular situation. Personally, he'd wished it <em>was <em>Purgatory. It was big, loud, dark, crowded, and informal enough to feel safe.

Dark Star was loud, sure, but not loud enough to drown out the noise around you. It wasn't too crowded given it's size, and it was bright enough to send light scattering off every sequin-clad female there. It was too private here. He should have requested they go to Purgatory. Or maybe he could have postponed the meeting to a later date and tried to make it to Afterlife on Omega. This was too open, too personal for him.

Joker sat at the bar, picking at his nails, waiting. For who, he had no idea. The response had just said "a representative" and he'd stupidly left it at that.

It had been a year since he'd quit the Alliance. Nearly two years since Shepard...

Since he'd quit, his day's had been filled with monotonous duties. Get up, shower, dress, walk around a new part of the Citadel, eat, come home, undress, shower, sleep, then do it all over again. He didn't expect it to be full of adventure. He didn't have the itch to do something dangerous. It was calm. But by no stretch of the imagination relaxing. He hadn't had the heart to keep contact with the others from the Normandy, nor the will to do so. Neither did they, if the lack of messages was anything to go by.

Garrus had dropped off the grid entirely. He hadn't seen hide nor fringe of the turian since he'd been stuck in the wheelchair. He had only tried to contact him once to see how he was holding up. It had been an odd moment of weakness, and after deciding that Kaidan wasn't going to forgive him for Shepard's death, he'd asked the turian if he wanted to get a drink and forget. Garrus had been as close to the commander, if not closer, as Joker had been. If anyone was willing to drink until they only had a single brain cell left, it would have been him.

He'd never responded. A week later, Anderson had told him that Vakarian had stopped training to be a Spectre, left the Citadel, and dropped off the radar. It was the first time in weeks Joker had cracked a smile and made a joke. "_Damn. I mean he and I weren't that close, but to reject a drink with such finality as to drop off the grid..._"_  
><em>

Since then he'd been pretty much alone.

Until they'd contacted him again:

_Mister Moreau _

_The Alliance has lost a good pilot. As good as they come, judging by your personal record. It says a lot about __you; your time in the academy, your disease. Much of this is, and I can not stress this enough, important to our cause._

_You have allied with Commander Renita Shepard in the past to fight the Reaper threat, lead at the time by Saren and the allied force of the Geth. It is that tenacity, that strength, that makes you the perfect candidate to fight the newest threat to humans. _

_If you recall the day the Normandy died, you were looking into three disappearances. All human vessels. At the time, it was assumed that these were due to geth interference. A further look into the commander's death, as well as several more disappearances, varying from ships to colonies, has confirmed otherwise. _

_If you are shocked at this information, allow me the luxury of being surprised; you quit the Alliance because of it's need to appease the Council, and it is the Council who has been ignoring the threat. Cerberus has not._

_We are in need of a pilot, Mister Moreau. Not a good pilot. Not a great one. Cerberus needs a pilot like you. Of course, the job we have in mind will be dangerous. As all jobs in your past have gone, it is not without risk. _

_But I expect you knew that before opening this message. There will be an ambassador at the Dark Star Lounge on the Citadel two weeks from the time this message is opened. _

_We look forward to your participation, and welcome addition to Cerberus. _

The first time he'd read the message, he paled and nearly deleted it.

The second time he'd read it, he considered showing up just to tell the ambassador to suck it, and hell no he wouldn't join their cult of a cause.

The third time he read it, he shoved his animosity and distrust aside for a moment, and looked at the facts. People were disappearing. The Council was ignoring it, like usual. He'd be back in the pilot's chair, albeit with a new captain, but he be _flying _again. And they weren't asking him for a job interview. They _wanted _his talent, and it didn't seem like he had another option. The Alliance had grounded him. The Council had shoved everything the team had worked for into a vault, locked it up, and threw away the metaphorical key. He never would trust Cerberus, not after what Shepard had found.

But he couldn't exactly turn this down. Even if it meant working with or for them, he had to do something.

So here he was, two weeks later, sitting in a too bright bar with too little people, staring at a small glass of green liquid, waiting for the man or woman to show up and tell him exactly what he'd be working with, and who he was to work for.

She showed up seemingly out of nowhere.

She had a steady air of confidence wrapped around her like a blanket. Her eyes were a firm blue, and her dark barely-passed-the-shoulder hair contrasted drastically with her alabaster skin. Her jumpsuit was black and white, and clung to her curves like a perfect second skin, dipped low at the neck, but buckled at the collar. Her legs and hips moved like liquid, and her rosy lips where quirked in an inviting smile, borderline tempting. Belts hung around her hips, and he could see a pistol peeking out of a holster. On the left shoulder, was an emblem of an open, coal-black hexagon tipped on it's side. Around it, two honey-yellow lines that outlined the sides and came nowhere near touching at the bottom. It looked, from this distance, like a scarab. But her knew full well what it meant. Everything about her reminded Joker of the song "Sympathy For the Devil" and the level of unease that settled in his gut as her cold gazed settled on his seated form made him want to bolt for the doors and forget he'd ever considered the deal.

He wasn't afraid of her; but one look at her, one honest look, would tell you she was danger.

"Mister Moreau." It didn't sound like a question. She knew who he was, of course, but it was unsettling anyway.

"Joker, please," he said, keeping his voice level.

"For professional purposes, I'd prefer to use real names." Her accent sounded Australian, and her voice was a low purr. She signaled the turian at the bar for a drink before she spoke again. "I assume you know why I'm here?"

Joker nodded. "You're the rep Cerberus sent," he answered. "I have to admit, I wasn't expecting you to be so..."

She slid him a filthy glare and her lip curled.

"Whoa, whoa," Joker said, holding up his hands in defense. "I wasn't going to say any sort of complement, lady. Trust me." He would have amended that sentence, but considering there wasn't a word that could accurately describe her without earning him a kick in the nads, he thought better of it.

Her face settled into an easy smile. "Glad we understand each other. Now, down to business." She held out her hand. "Miranda Lawson."

He took her hand and gave it a hesitant shake.

She continued. "How familiar are you with the Collectors, Mister Moreau?"

Joker's eyes bulged. Was she serious? "Just rumors I've heard. Barely come out, dealing in some shady trades. Weird shit, but nothing that rang true. They're an Alliance ghost story."

"Unless they aren't, of course." She took a sip of her drink, grimaced at the taste and set it down. "Cerberus looked extensively at the the attack on the Normandy, Mister Moreau. That ship you saw? In your report it said it didn't match any known signatures."

Joker's eyes narrowed as he nodded.

"I had a team send out pings along that sector, and any system near it, looking for anything unusual. At first, we didn't find anything. It wasn't until a week after the first colony went silent that Cerberus found a hint into what were were dealing with. There was...no sign of struggle, no sign of any kind of attack. They only thing that was out of place was one of their weapons. Naturally, we had our best tear the object apart, and extensive research was done. The gun was like nothing we'd ever seen. The construct was strange enough, but what it shot - "

"Let me guess," Joker interrupted. "It was supposed to be shooting some kind of laser beam. Like a concentrated beam of - of - light, or something."

"A Particle Beam. I have reason to believe the ship the Normandy ran into - "

"It ran into us."

"- shared a similar sort of beam, on a much larger scale. The team repaired the gun a much as possible, and compared the burns to that of the salvaged pieces of the SR-1. They left the same imprints. Over the past year and a half, we've been gathering any kind of intel on what's behind the attacks. We haven't come across any kind of solid proof. No video footage, no bodies. But the attacks are always humans, and occasionally there are reports of marks likely left by a particle beam."

"So, basically, you're team had nothing to go on other than maybe, because you haven't seen it before in the vast archives of Cerberus,_ maybe _it's the 'Collectors?" Joker snorted. "You've got shit data on this, let's be honest."

Her eyes darkened. "_I _personally haven't gathered the intel. I've sent teams. My other projects keep me plenty busy, Mister Moreau."

"What other projects?"

"Do you know who the Illusive Man is?"

Joker shook his head. "No. But, I'm guessing he's the head honcho? You'd have to be to call yourself that."

Miranda gave a quick nod. "As you've probably guessed, the Illusive Man wants you for his plans."

Joker snorted. "Yeah, okay. Look, Lawson, I didn't show up to listen to your propaganda about what you've been doing for the last two years. I could care less how far or how close you are to a breakthrough. I'm defiantly grateful that you somehow obtained my file and are interested in letting me fly again. But what's the catch here?" He paused to sip at his own drink, hoping it would clear his mind a little. He hauled his ass here for this? Needless propaganda and promotion of Cerberus and it's fucked up research? Unless they looked as his report and decided to mock him; there was no way she was being serious. "If you just need a pilot, there are plenty of others out there."

"Not ones who had the close bond you did with Shepard," the other murmured.

Joker's lips set in a thin line and he leveled Miranda's cold gaze with his own. "Whether or not I was chummy with her doesn't effect me as a pilot. The commander is dead. She's been dead, _Miss _Lawson, and as you've said, you've looked into her death."

"Extensively."

"Good. Great. Fantastic. And you've come up with a theory about the Collectors. Great job, you're following a ghost trail. Whatever mission you're embarking on, it doesn't affect me."

"Oh," she mused, "I think it does."

"How?"

She smiles a fox's smile. And not the good kind of fox, either. "When I say I researched her death extensively, I am not restricting that research to what _caused _it. We scanned the planet. Found the hunk of burnt metal and flesh and ash that was once the Commander."

Joker blanched. "You...what?"

Miranda got up. "I can see you don't want to take the job. Too bad. She would have been really happy to see you, when we woke her." She turned delicately on her heel, and strode in the direction of the door.

"Whoa, wait a sec - " Before he knew what he was doing, Joker reached out to grab her arm.

And immediately felt the excruciating sharp pang of broken bone and Miranda's had gripping his wrist. Her eyes where hooded as if she were about to smile, but her mouth was pressed into a thin line. The look she was giving him could level mountains. Joker gapped in silent agony for a few more seconds before his wrist was released.

"Did you have a question, Mister Moreau?"

"You just said when you woke _her _up." She _did_ say extensive research. But all the money in the galaxy couldn't cure Vrolix Syndrome. He'd been taken to doctor after doctor, done the research on the extranet. No one today was looking into it, and nothing had been found during the time they had been. Something as simple as brittle bones couldn't be cured. There was _no way in hell _that Cerberus had found a way to cheat death. No way. And yet...

"Who are you talking about?" The throbbing in his wrist increased with his heart rate and he winced.

"Commander Renita Shepard."

There was a pregnant silence. Joker had to take several deep breaths, and Miranda crossed her arms, waiting for the wheels in his head to start turning. There were a lot of things he could say. Some that ran the long lines of "_You made her one of your freaking_ experiments_? What kind of human-centric group are you?_" and others that sound quite a lot like "_Holy shit, you cheated death. Way to go, Cerberus_." But all that came out was a winded, weary, "How?"

Her fox smile returned. "I call it 'Project Lazarus.'"

Joker shook his head, trying to understand. "What is...?" he trailed off. She was holding out her hand for his good one to shake.

"Welcome to Cerberus, Mister Moreau."

* * *

><p>Six months.<p>

They'd - well, Miranda - had told him she'd woken up early. Somebody had hacked the mechs in the facility, turning them hostile. Shepard was okay, but she had a few scars. They were leaving for Freedom's Progress. Joker had just been briefed on that as well. The colony had gone dark, and it was the most recent blip they could get to.

Six months. He didn't trust the lot of them; not even Miranda, but that could just be because of the wrist injury. He liked Jacob Taylor; he;d once been part of the Alliance too, and joined Cerberus to help fight the Collectors. He'd been briefed, given a uniform, brushed up on his flying, and had waited patiently to start the mission. And to see his new ship

He'd not met the Illusive Man, and frankly didn't want to. He didn't trust him though, both Lawson and Taylor agreed that he had every right to.

"Mister Moreau?"

He looked up from the bed in his small quarters. He had been brought to the base Lawson and Taylor had recently been to a few hours ago, briefed, and released to do whatever he needed too. "Yeah?"

The person seemed to be an engineer was a young woman, probably early thirties, with her hair cut into an attractive ginger bob and sea green eyes. "My name is Kelly Chambers." She gave him a warm smile. "I'll be working with the Commander as Yeoman, and by extension, with you as well."

Joker gave her a cooked smile. "Call me Joker."

Her smile widened. Okay, two people in Cerberus he like. Kelly seemed incredibly warm. "Joker it is then." She looked down at the data pad in her hand, and then back up at Joker. "I was told by Miranda that the ship we will be on is getting the final touches put on it. But, if you'd like, I have clearance to go through there. We can go check it out. It may ruin the surprise though."

Joker was off the bed and heading out the door before she could finish, an excited smile lighting up his features. "Lead the way."

She did.

And when they reacher the destination, Joker could only stare, a warmth filling his chest. Excitement, elation, euphoria, other words that meant ridiculously happy and started with an "e" filled his mind, and none of them met the mark on how he felt when he saw her again.

"It's she great?" Kelly said quietly, as if talking over a sleeping infant.

"Great?" Joker breathed, his smile becoming impossibly wider. "She beautiful."

* * *

><p>The room was dark. In the center of it, there was a orange grid that transported the image of the user as a hologram. From his view atop the stairs, he could only hear her side of the conversation.<p>

It was eerily refreshing to hear the restrained frustration in her voice. Familiar.

"Alright, no Liara either. Where's Garrus Vakarain?" she snapped.

_Where indeed, _Joker thought bitterly.

After a long pause and inching down the stairs to get a better look, Joker could see the outline of Shepard, standing, _alive_, in the middle of it. Her shoulders tensed a bit, and then sagged.

"Alright...Okay. I get it." She heaved a sigh that sounded half pissed, half depressed. "They're not available."

Another long pause. She gave a sharp nod; whatever the Illusive Man had told her, it had been something along the line of an order. "That doesn't sound too hard. And the second thing?"

The pause was shorter this time, and then the grid began to defend around her. He'd ended the call.

"Trust? Oh fuck _you_. Just..." she trailed off. Held her head in her hand.

"Hey," Joker called, making his way down the rest of the steps. "Commander."

She spun around so fast that had it been up to him to reenact it, he'd break his neck. She was still...Shepard. Her skin was still dark, her eyes skill the cautious dark blue, her hair still pulled back into the struck pony tail, a few loose strands escaping to frame her face. Same ridged stance, like a predator ready to spring. The only differences were the scars that were etched across her face, glowing a faint, hating orange.

Her mouth bobbed up and down, her eyes wide as she took in Joker's form. He let it sink in; for her and for him. It was a shock. She was alive. He'd watched her die, he'd let her fly off, he didn't grab her two years ago. Yet here she was, good as new, alive, breathing. He imagined that not knowing if he was alive and well, if he'd survived the escape pod, was just as maddening.

When she finally spoke, it was a shocked, happy whisper. "Joker?"

His face broke into a grin from ear to ear. "Just like old times, huh?"

She beamed. Her eyes held a heaviness that was a mixture of sadness and relief. She took two strides forward and brought him in for a hug. It was a light one, enough so that she wouldn't crush him, clad in armor as she was. He hugged her back.

"I cannot believe this," she grumbled, pulling away, her voice shaking just enough for Joker to catch. "All the pilots in the galaxy, and he had to choose you? Jeez, kid, I can't catch a fucking break today."

Joker shrugged. "What can I say? Birds of a feather flock together."

The ascend the stairs. "I can't believe it's you Joker."

Joker scoffed. "Look who's talking! I saw you get _spaced_."

She shrugged. "I got lucky." A small pause. "With a lot of strings attached. How'd you get here?"

Joker sighed, and shook his head. "It all fell apart without you, Commander. Everything you stirred up the Council just...wanted it gone." He sighed. They were walking in the direction of the docking bay. "The team was broken up, records sealed, and I was grounded."

Shepard bit her lip, looking apologetic. "Did they try to reassign you?"

Joker nodded and feigned a shudder. Shepard winced sympathetically. "Did they give you the shitty "trial period" treatment?"

Joker laughed without humor. "Oh yeah. But the geezer was docked so much I may as well have stayed on shore leave."

Shepard sighed. "Shit, man. Is that why you...?"

He shrugged and continued. "The Alliance took the only thing that mattered to me. Hell yeah I joined Cerberus."

Shepard put a hand on his shoulder, and gave him a serious, hard look. "Do you really trust the Illusive Man?" The question was asked with a solid voice that held no trust at all. He didn't blame her.

"I don't trust anyone who makes more than I do," Joker explained with a half smile and a shrug. They'd reached the docking bay, and Joker leaned his shoulder against the glass. "But they aren't all bad. Saved your life. Let me fly - " he gestured toward the window, and Shepard cautiously mover her eyes from him to the void of space. "And...there's this."

Shepard's jaw dropped slightly, and Joker nodded in agreement, the familiar excitement settling in his gut. "They only told me last night."

The Normandy SR-2 glided into view. Her paint job was matching the colors of Cerberus, but she was still the same ship she'd been before the attack. The same frigate. The same space. It was still...

"It's good to be home, huh, Commander?" Joker asked, nudging her with his his elbow.

Shepard nodded, then shook her head. He watched as she rested her fingertips against the glass. A slow smile spread across her face. "I guess we'll have to giver her a name." As if there was another name for her.

Joker nodded. "She's beautiful, right? Absolutely perfect."

He noticed Shepard's face, her eyes pinched around the edged. They weren't exactly misted over, but they weren't far from that stage. After seeing as much shit as she had, the shock of waking up two years later, having to work with Cerberus, and knowing the rest of her crew was gone, had to be daunting. Maybe not scary, but definitely frustrating.

He reached out an gave her shoulder a squeeze. The corners of her mouth lifted. "Welcome home, Renita."

She let out a burst of laughter, and gave him her signature smirk. "Welcome home, Jeff."


End file.
